


Hellmouth Hurricane

by sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurricanes & Typhoons, Season/Series 05, Storms, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27560410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: A hurricane is hitting Sunnydale. This is a rarity in and of itself. Everyone evacuates, even essential workers, leaving Giles to research the potential magical origins of the storm. Buffy is stuck in her house with an unexpected houseguest a.k.a. Spike as the storm makes landfall. Written for the Elysian Fields Trapped Challenge, October 2020.Set in early season five after “Family” and with a semi-alternate timeline, so only Buffy and Giles really know about Glory and about Dawn being the Key.The beautiful banner is by the super talented Pixiecorn!Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _I mean, people are perfectly happy getting along and then vampires come and they run around and they kill people and they take over your whole house. They start making these stupid little mini-pizzas and everyone's like, "Oh, look! A mini-pizza!" – Buffy in “Ted” by David Greenwalt and Joss Whedon_

“What do you mean I can’t leave? A-a giant,” Buffy gestured at the steady sunlight pouring through Giles’s apartment window, “hurricane is coming!”

Giles couldn’t meet her gaze and stared at the glasses in his hands. He’d been polishing them a moment ago. “I’m so sorry.”

“Everyone else in the city is leaving. My mom and Dawn are home packing right now. It’s a mandatory evacuation. Even the hospital’s cleared out. And Xander heard from some of his co-workers that even the firemen and police officers are jumping ship after everyone’s out. That’s weird, right?” Buffy couldn’t understand how her Watcher didn’t understand that she had to leave.

“Yes, that is rather odd. Perhaps it’s a hellmouth quirk? And no, you cannot leave the hellmouth.”

“Screw this!” Buffy started to pace, her hands moving as she talked. “I know it’s my job to guard the hellmouth, but this is crazy. If I die, who will do the guarding? Faith? She’s in prison. A-and who will protect Dawn from Glory while I’m here?” 

“Hurricanes in southern California are a rarity. Nora in 1997 was downgraded to a tropical storm before it made landfall. To have a storm of this magnitude barreling toward Sunnydale – ”

“Means there is probably some sort of supernatural connection. I know, I know.” Buffy stopped and sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay. Alone. As usual.”

“Not everyone is leaving,” Giles said patiently, adjusting his glasses back on his nose.

“Just dummies who don’t have a clue what they’re facing because they’ve never faced it. Willow and Tara have already left, and from the look on Anya’s face, she’s planning on dragging Xander away whether he wants to leave or not. Count me in the dummy crew.” Buffy slumped down on the arm of Giles’s sofa, hating herself for calling people dummies. Who knew why they weren’t leaving? She knew there had to be elderly people out there who didn’t have transportation or people who just didn’t know how deadly storms could be. Her father had been the anxious type, and of the few things he gave her, a healthy respect for nature was one of them. She still remembered how he had been glued to the news, watching the coverage of the Superstorm when she was thirteen. She’d had nightmares about being lost in the driving snow and freezing to death for a month.

“Yes, there are people who ride out every storm. And they end up dying, but I’m not talking about them.” Giles sat next to Buffy on the couch. “I’m talking about me. I’m not leaving you here to face this alone.”

Buffy blinked at him. “You aren’t?” 

He smiled at her ruefully. “Of course not. A good Watcher always goes down with his Slayer.” 

Buffy bonked him lightly on the arm. “That is not a thing.”

“Ow!” Giles rubbed his arm but continued to smile.

There was sadness in Giles’s eyes, and Buffy wondered if he ever thought about her dying. “You’re right. It’s not. Most Watchers have grieved long and hard for their Slayers, but they haven’t died with them for the most part.”

“I knew it,” she said with irony to lighten the mood and hopefully brush away his sadness. She couldn’t bear his sadness, or she’d start crying, and Lord knew, she’d been crying enough since she and Riley broke up. She refused to let herself be sad about him anymore. Willow had called him a poop head. Buffy outwardly agreed, but some small part of her couldn’t help but wonder if there was something wrong with her. Maybe she was unlovable. 

Her joking tone worked because Giles’s eyes shifted away from hers. “All the same, the research we’ve been doing has paid off, and I’m on the verge of sorting the whole thing. I just have to make a few calls and gather up the appropriate texts. There’s a spell and – ”

Buffy interrupted him. “You have to run by the Magic Box, and you’ll meet me at my house with all the supplies.” 

“Something like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy grunted as she nudged the door open with the heel of her boot and trundled into her empty house with two arms loaded down with bags. As she plunked the bags on the kitchen island, she sighed. 

“Stupid people buying all the water and toilet paper and batteries and food. Why is everything gone at the store if they’re just going to leave town anyway?” The line of vehicles headed out of town had been bumper to bumper and sluggish. 

“Ah, pet, bought out the store, eh?” 

Buffy’s head jerked up to see Spike lounging in the doorway of the dining room, his duster missing, and his arms looking really nice in his usual black T-shirt. Spike had good arms. Did she just think that? She forced herself to scowl at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Just standing about.”

“In my house.” Buffy pulled the packet of string cheese out of a bag along with a huge pack of bacon (more than she’d ever need) and a six-pack of diet Coke. Sadly, the store had been out of Tab. “Not a place to lurk. Why aren’t you outside?” Ignoring how his eyes were following her, she tugged open the refrigerator door with two fingers and started shoving things on different shelves. 

“In case you hadn’t heard, there’s a hurricane coming. Rare thing around here. I don’t fancy being outside.”

“You could hunker down in your crypt or head out of town like everyone else.”

Spike meandered into the kitchen, looking oddly less swagger-ish than usual and sort of. . . hopeful? “It’s still daylight. Crypt is far away, and I can’t exactly go on foot.” 

“And yet, you got here in the daylight.”

He didn’t bite on her barb, instead pulling three bags of chips out of the bags. “These go in the larder?” 

Buffy was confused for a second and then realized he meant the pantry. She nodded automatically, finding her annoyance at the vampire in her home slipping down a notch. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

As Spike tucked the chips away, he asked, “What’s with all the snack food?”

Buffy huffed at him and repeated what he’d already said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “In case you hadn’t heard, there’s a hurricane coming. A once-in-a-lifetime storm. The kind that never hits California because of weather. . . stuff I don’t understand.” She picked up the one gallon of water and six-pack of bottled water she’d been able to find. 

Spike plucked out a can of Spam. “Why do you need ten cans of Spam? And five of. . . Beanie Weenies? Do you even eat this stuff?”

Loading the water in the fridge, Buffy peeked over her shoulder at him. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. “I panicked.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her as she turned toward him and tucked her hands in her back pockets. 

She shrugged. “It’s protein.”

Spike gazed at the can in his hand almost thoughtfully. “If you want, I could probably do something with it. Make it somewhat palatable.”

Mixed emotions that she couldn’t decipher filled her chest. He cooked? And was offering to cook for her? “But you aren’t staying here with me during this. If that’s what you’re implying.”

He regarded her as if trying to sort something out. “Why are you staying on the hellmouth? It’s about to become a whole lot more hellacious when this storm gets ahold of it.” 

Buffy didn’t trust Spike, but ever since their Acathla treaty and maybe even when he returned to Sunnydale all heartbroken over Dru, Buffy knew something had shifted in how she viewed him even though outwardly she couldn’t let him see it. She couldn’t let herself see it either. Not unless she squinted and looked at it sideways. He’d done a lot of really bad stuff, too. Still, her response to his query was automatic. “Because Giles thinks something else is going on that’s causing the storm to pull ashore here instead of skimming up the coast.” 

Spike set the can of Spam on the counter, his fingers lingering over the edge of it. He pressed his lips together, and for some reason, Buffy found herself remembering how those lips felt on hers – so soft and gentle but with an energy behind the kisses that left her feeling like she wanted him to push her up against a wall already. She mentally kicked herself. Stupid thoughts, stupid memories, stupid Willow-spell-gone-wrong. “I’ll stay. If it’s something supernatural, I’ll help.”

Against her better judgment, Buffy heard herself say, “Okay.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “But no funny business, or there’s a stake with your name on it.”

“I’ll hold you to it, pet.” She blushed again when he looked at her with those blue, blue eyes and winked at her. Damn him. He would like it if she tried to stake him.


	3. Chapter 3

“Where are you going?” Spike asked, already looking at home leaning against the banister. He’d mastered the art of leaning. He got an ‘A’ in leaning. His gaze burned through her like he had read her mind earlier about the kisses and the wall, and now he was letting her know that he knew.

She gripped her stake to remind herself of. . . herself. She was the Slayer. She continued her descent down the stairs. “Out for patrol.”

“Isn’t that taking things a little too far?”

Buffy brushed past him, her bare forearm grazing his. She bit the inside of her cheek to avoid thinking about his skin pressed against hers. “How so? It’s my job and who knows when this hurricane is going to show up.” 

He crossed his arms. “When’s the last time you checked the telly?” 

Buffy sighed. “Is that what you’ve been doing down here?” She’d been avoiding him by staying upstairs on a very long bathroom break that wasn’t really a bathroom break. “Watching the weather report?”

A smirk grew on his face. “Maybe. Some of the time.” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “When does it hit?”

“You haven’t heard the wind picking up out there?” 

Glancing at the big window in the living room, Buffy paused and listened. The winds had started so subtly that she hadn’t noticed quite how loud they were now. As if to punctuate Spike’s point, she heard a branch tapping against a window upstairs in a steady, insistent staccato. Her eyes rounded. “I need to call Giles.” She was already hurrying toward the phone before she even finished the sentence. His phone number flew off her fingertips, and the ringtone was familiar and reassuring. 

“Hello?” Giles’s familiar voice sounded calm on the other end of the line. 

“Giles. It’s Buffy. The winds are picking up. Where are you?” 

There was a long pause, and Buffy wondered if the call had dropped. The tiny phone screen continued to count down the seconds until Giles came back on the line. “It appears that I’m stuck in my home for the time being.”

“Crap.” She suddenly had the urge for her Watcher to be there, in her home, with her. 

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I was caught up in my research, and well, the time got away from me.”

The thing she was most worried about burst out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “Do you think this hurricane has anything to do with Glory?” 

Her eyes found Spike’s. He was watching her intently, taking everything in. Somehow, though she had told no one but Giles, she felt okay with Spike knowing. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt almost relieved to have someone else in the know. 

Twisting the phone cord around her finger, she urged, “Giles?”

“I honestly don’t know, Buffy. I was able to find a spell in ‘Magica Caelo,’ but the only thing to come from it is that there is magic driving this storm.” Buffy didn’t ask what the title meant; she trusted Giles’s research implicitly. 

“Where is it coming from?”

“It wasn’t a location spell – ”

Buffy’s heart sank. She wanted to nip this thing in the bud. “Great. It could be coming from anywhere.”

“But!” There was irritation in Giles’s tone. “But from what I can tell, the magic is coming from the general direction of the hellmouth.” 

“I’ll head there now.” Buffy moved to hang up the phone.

“Buffy!” Giles practically shouted from the tiny speaker. “You can’t leave now.”

“Why not?” 

“The storm. It’s already blowing in. You need to hunker down.” 

Buffy looked up at Spike, who said, “Your Watcher’s right. You’ll have to wait.”

“I’m not good at waiting.” 

Spike took a step toward her as if he’d try to stop her if he could. “Hundred and fifty mile an hour winds would blow even the best of Slayers away. You’ll get yourself killed walking out the door.” 

“As much as I hate to say this,” Giles offered, “you need to listen to Spike.” Giles didn’t even ask what Spike was doing with her. 

As the winds howled louder, the house whined in protest – a sound Buffy had never heard. That was not of the good.

She clenched her jaw. “Fine. I’ll stay. When should it be safe to go out?”

“Wait for the eye,” Giles said.

“The eye? The eye of what?” 

Spike sighed. “Hurricanes rotate. The space of low pressure in the center is the eye of the storm. You’ll be able to investigate your little heart out then.” 

“Okay.” She had a game plan. Then, she addressed Giles. “You stay put, too. And let me know that you’re okay.” 

“I will, Buffy. Be careful.”


	4. Chapter 4

“The weather guy is standing there in the wind looking like he’s going to blow away. What’s that supposed to tell us other than he’s not very bright. Either that or someone volunteered him for wind-testing duty, and he couldn’t say no,” Buffy muttered at the living room TV from where she was slouched on the sofa. “And what’s with doing the report by that tower? It looks like it might fall on top of him.”

The wind was definitely picking up speed – more than when Spike had pointed it out earlier. The tree branch was becoming more insistent, and if Buffy was as dumb as the weather guy, she’d be out there trying to tie off the limb, so it wouldn’t break the glass. 

Spike would probably stop her before she got that far though.

Spike. 

Spike was in her house. In her kitchen. And he was cooking Spam. He’d shooed her out of the room when she was hovering a little too close. He said she was just bloody in the way and would make him set himself on fire. On most days, Buffy didn’t think that would necessarily be a bad thing, but during the middle of an unprecedented-likely-mystical-and-perhaps-apocalyptic hurricane, she didn’t want him to be a pile of dust. 

She blinked and shook her head. She was almost thinking about Spike as if he weren’t the mortal enemy who wanted to kill her – had tried to kill her multiple times. He hadn’t been very successful at it, but it was probably because she was a better Slayer than those Slayers he’d killed. Right? 

Buffy bit her lip. He was being awfully quiet in the kitchen. What if he was plotting her demise and being very stealthy about it? He came across as a buffoon with that chip in his head, but really, Spike could be very stealthy when he wanted to be. He was a dangerous vampire sired into a line of very dangerous vampires, who had done terrible, awful things. 

Sitting up abruptly, Buffy blinked the temporary stars out of her eyes and hurried to the kitchen. Her nose was met with the delicious scent of something frying. As she approached Spike, something spicy tickled her nose. 

His face was a mask of concentration as he plucked what looked like planks of crispy Spam out of boiling oil in the pot on the stove. He plunked them gently on a paper towel-covered plate and began blotting the excess grease. He nodded at Buffy, moved the plate off the cool burner, and stepped to one side. “Mind getting the jalapenos out of the oven?”

Without thinking too much about it, Buffy said, “Sure.” She grabbed the oven mitt out of the drawer and pulled open the oven door. Roasted jalapenos were lined up on a foil-lined baking pan. 

She removed them and set them on the stove as Spike reached over to turn off the flame on the oil. His fingers skimmed over her hand, and she shivered. He didn’t seem to notice and went back to his task of soaking up oil. Why did she wish he’d lingered? 

She covered her own confusing feelings by asking, “What’re you making?”

“Tacos.”

“Spam tacos?” Her incredulity shone through with some sarcasm.

Spike huffed. “If you’re going to question my choices, why’d you want me to cook?”

Was she questioning his choices? Her stomach growled. “Not questioning. Just curious.”

“How about you judge the food after you taste it?”

“Okay. I can do that.” She felt a little out of place. “What should I do now?”

“Toss the corn tortillas in the oven and get the pico out of the fridge.”

Buffy’s eyes rounded. “You made pico? To go with the jalapenos?” 

Spike shrugged a shoulder. “I like spicy.”

Buffy chose not to question him about whether he was eating, too, because apparently, he was. She was about to have dinner with the enemy. But that didn’t sound quite right. Was he the enemy? He’d been chipped for so long that he didn’t seem like the enemy. “Okay.” She hurried around the kitchen, following his instructions and getting out plates and forks. She set up the pico and jalapenos on a plate and put the tortillas in the oven. 

Spike settled the Spam next to the toppings on the kitchen island and went to the fridge. He pulled out a blood bag that Buffy didn’t realize was there and proceeded to pour it into a mug and microwave it. She opened her mouth, intending to ask why he’d thought to bring blood, but her stomach protested its emptiness again, and she sat on one of the stools. 

Bringing the tortillas and his blood, Spike perched next to her on the neighboring stool. He passed her a warm tortilla.

“Thanks,” she said and began to load up the soft corn, adding the Spam and pico and sprinkling a little salt over the whole pile. 

Spike paused in his own taco prep to slide a roasted jalapeno onto her taco. He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Try it. The roasting and seed removal takes away some of the heat.”

Buffy hesitated but then crossed her arms. “You first.”

Spike smirked, carefully picked up his taco, and took a huge bite that included two slices of jalapenos. He closed his eyes as if in ecstasy as he chewed. “Mmm.”

When he didn’t burst into dust or rush to down the blood in his mug, Buffy decided she better buck up and show him who the Slayer was. She gathered up her food in both hands and took a big bite before he could challenge her. The Spam and pico were delightfully crispy in contrast to the soft, warm tortilla, and to her surprise, the jalapeno wasn’t overly spicy and added the hint of a kick as she swallowed. 

Spike watched her with expectation akin to hope on his face, and she found that she couldn’t give him a negative review even if the first bite hadn’t been delicious. 

“Oh,” she managed, her fingers going to her lips. “That was – ”

“Terrible? Not up to your palate’s expectations?” 

She shook her head. “No, no. Actually.” He was studying her face hard. “It’s delicious. How?” She regarded the simple taco on her plate. “It’s Spam.”

“Told you to trust me.”

“Hmph. Just because I let you cook for me does not mean I trust you.” 

Spike rolled his eyes. “To each her own.” He returned to his food and blood. 

Buffy polished off her first taco and loaded up a second. This time, she added her own pepper. Spike didn’t even move a muscle though she expected him to make fun of her. Instead, he ate his own seconds with zeal, and she followed his lead.

Buffy finished her second taco first and discovered that there was only enough Spam for a fifth and final taco. To her own surprise, she tore the tortilla in half and gave Spike a piece. 

“Sharing now, eh?” Spike asked. 

Buffy split the remaining meat with Spike. “Of course. I know how to share. Learned how when my sister was born.”

“Having a sibling makes a difference.” Spike didn’t know Dawn wasn’t real. He didn’t know she was a key created in human form to hide her from Glory. 

“Did you have one? A sibling?” 

“Of course. But back then, there were no antibiotics or modern medicine. I was the only one who survived to adulthood.” There was a hint of sadness in his tone, which surprised Buffy. Did vampires miss their human lives or their human families? Angel had never mentioned missing his. 

“Oh, wow. Your parents must have been so sad.”

“It was expected in a lot of ways, but knowing it didn’t make it easy. Especially for my mum.” 

“She must have treasured you,” Buffy commented. 

Spike nodded. “She did. Overdid it a bit, but. . . it was nice.”

“Which part?”

Emotion flickered over Spike’s face – emotion that Buffy couldn’t interpret. “She doted a little too much. Gave me unwarranted accolades.” 

“That’s what moms are supposed to do. Love their kids unconditionally.” 

Spike smiled at her. “As much as that’s a possibility. She was. . . home.”

Buffy got that. “My mom’s made mistakes, but she’ll always be home to me.”

“Your mum is a fine lady.”

“You like her.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t put on airs. She takes me as I am. Unlike some people – ”

“Hey!” Buffy protested. “I take you as you are: a nuisance.”

Spike shoved back from his food. “If that’s how you treat a bloke who’s fed you and who’s keeping you company during a bloody hurricane when everyone else skipped town – ”

Buffy’s heart pounded in her chest as annoyance flashed through her. “It’s a mandatory evacuation. That’s why everyone’s gone. Unlike you. . . the only idiot who decided to stay.”

“Your Watcher’s still here.”

Worry flitted through her mind. “Because he’s trying to help me figure out what’s going on with the storm.”

“The storm driven by magic coming from the hellmouth.”

“How did you – ?”

Spike tapped one ear. “Enhanced vampire hearing. Heard the whole phone conversation.” He hesitated. “You have to let me help you.” There was that whole vulnerability in his eyes again. Buffy didn’t know what to make of it.

“Why would I let you help me?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because you’re. . .” Buffy didn’t have the heart to tell him he wasn’t very evil anymore. She’d already called him two names in rapid succession. 

Spike growled in frustration. “Because I’m useless with this chip in my head! I see the way you look at me with,” he gestured at her with one hand, “those. . . eyes. Full of. . . pity.” He clenched his jaw. “Fine. I’ll be downstairs. In the safest part of the house if you need me.” 

Buffy was left with a kitchen full of dirty dishes, pots and pans and a bucket full of confusion about what had just happened between her and Spike. The wind howled in response, and the tree branch rat-a-tat-tat’ed on the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I've been through many hurricanes...the most memorable being Katrina, Rita, Ike, and Harvey, Ike was the one that scared me the most because I had to stay in town due to working at the hospital. I was in a second floor apartment with lots of big windows, and oh, wowsers, the winds were loud and rattled the windows like no one's business. I literally thought they'd implode. So much of what's to come is based on that. And also the other hurricanes...little observations. That's probably all I'll say about that. The tidbits in earlier chapters are based on research about hurricanes in California. Promise I didn't make that stuff up. Anyway, carry on...more tomorrow! :o)


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy startled awake out of deep sleep and discovered that she was in the middle of an apocalypse. Everything was dark as night; there wasn’t even the light from her alarm clock or the streetlight outside. The windows were rattling so hard that she thought they might shatter or implode, and it took her a moment to realize that the winds wailing outside were accompanied by an odd whining sound. And she thought the branches hitting the glass downstairs was bad. 

Moving on instinct, she slid out of bed, pulled on her fuzzy socks, and felt her way to her bedroom door. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room in stark white, and she spied the exit, practically leaping for it before darkness took over again. 

Her heart pounding in her chest, she hurried to the top of the stairs and swayed at the top step as her toes curled over the edge. She balanced herself on the railing and inched her way down the stairs, using her feet to guide her and almost tumbling down and down halfway to the first floor. Her hand and arm collided hard with the smooth wood and she held on for a long moment until she felt sure again. 

Seconds later, her feet thankfully found the ground, and she meandered her way to the kitchen with the cacophony resounding all around her. She stubbed her toe hard on something – a curse escaping from her lips. It took her a few seconds to recover from the sharp pain and make sense of what it was – the leg of the dining room table. Stupid table in the way.

With the next lightning flash, she raced to the basement door and flung it open before she lost sight of the doorknob. Holding her breath, she waited for the crack of thunder to finish echoing.

“Slayer?” came an amused voice from below.

“Yeah?” Her voice came out a little squeaky, which was annoying and hardly Slayer-like.

“Sounds like a tornado up there. Best get down here.” 

“Are there tornados with hurricanes? Aren’t they a different storm?” The blackness below seemed impossible.

“There can be.” He wasn’t being sarcastic. That was probably a bad sign. There was a long pause before he added, “What’s holding you back? Afraid of what’s down here more than the storm up there? I’m a monster in the dark, but I promise I won’t bite you.”

“Promise?” Buffy asked, not really caring about the answer. She just couldn’t see anything in front of her face, and the basement stairs had always been a little trickier to traverse than the stairs between the first and second floor. There was that step halfway down into the basement that always threatened to collapse, and there was another step with an exposed nail that she’d almost stepped on plenty of times with actual light guiding her.

“Wait there.” 

Before Buffy could protest that she didn’t need anything, he was there before her, setting off all of her Slayer senses. The hair on the back of her neck was shouting at her that there was a vampire in front of her, and the goosebumps rolling over her arms were making her shiver with something far different than fear. 

Lightning flashed again, giving her a glimpse of Spike’s pale face and bright blue eyes, which were earnest with kindness. He was extending a hand to her. 

She hesitated. If she took his offer of help, what did it mean? Thunder rumbled as if in answer to her question. 

Spike must have seen something in her expression because he growled in frustration and grabbed for her hand. “Not going to bite you, pet. Not in the way you think. ‘Sides I have this chip in my noggin. Couldn’t do it anyway.”

Buffy was mum because his palm was cool against hers, and in her mind, she flashed to another hand that had felt similarly. Angel’s hand had been larger, but Spike’s was firmer and more insistent – maybe because of what he was trying to get her to do. She swallowed, wondering what would happen to her if Spike used his current leverage to pull her close to him. He couldn’t hurt her physically, but she assumed he could do other things to her without being in pain.

A one-two punch of lightning and thunder made Buffy start forward and lose her balance. She fell against Spike with a soft “oof.” Her face landed on his chest, and his arms instinctively went around her, holding her tight. She remembered then how it felt to be in his embrace. It was a memory that Buffy had shoved to the back of her mind with the end of Willow’s will-be-done spell. Buffy hated it, but there was comfort in his arms. She’d been so sure of how she felt about Spike. She’d loved him with her whole heart, unencumbered by the angst of her relationship with Angel. the hurt she’d felt when Parker had shunned her, or the vague regret that Riley was gone. 

Spike released her as more thunder resounded and a heavy gust of wind seemed to shake the entire first floor. 

Buffy slammed the basement door behind her, and together, they hurried down the stairs. Spike flicked on his zippo lighter, providing a tiny light in a sea of black. When they reached the basement floor, he let go of her hand without fanfare. She hugged her ribcage, uncertain what to do with the freedom. 

Seemingly oblivious to her insecurity, Spike held the flame up, scanning the shelves against the wall. “Got any candles in those boxes?”

Buffy’s mind latched onto his question. “Yes.” She rushed forward as if his help would end or the zippo would run out of juice. She went for the second box on the second shelf where she remembered a few candles lived. Sliding it forward, she recognized that it felt too light for candles but still, she untucked the cardboard flaps and felt around inside. Her fingers closed over a soft, plush stuffed animal – Dawn’s overflow box. Buffy’s sister had tons on her bed, but these were ones she didn’t want but wasn’t ready to discard. And this box was supposed to be on the top shelf. Buffy quickly rummaged in a couple more boxes before sighing. “Sorry.”

Spike pulled out a box and opened it with his free hand. “You lot should really label the boxes.” 

Buffy bit her tongue to stop her from telling him to shut up. Instead, she said, “Yeah. It’d be a big help right now.”

With a smirk of triumph, Spike held his box against his hip and brandished a candle encased in glass. “Found them.”

Buffy let out a sigh of relief. At least, she’d be able to keep tabs on Spike once a few were lit. 

“Little help?” he asked when she didn’t move. 

“Sure.” She managed to grab the box without touching him. Somehow. A hint of disappointment spread through her chest. 

Spike frowned at her without the snark she expected. Buffy ignored him and plopped the box on the small table near the stairs. She began pulling out the candles, discovering there were more than she remembered. Spike’s fingers brushed hers as he took one at a time from her, lighting them. (Was it her imagination that he let the touch linger?) They each took the tiny golden flames and spread them around the basement until they ended up standing next to each other, surveying their work, while the storm raged overhead.

“It’s kinda pretty,” Buffy whispered. The candles were warm and flickering and made her feel somewhat cozy and safe.

“Yeah,” Spike agreed. There was wonder in his eyes; he’d been on the planet for over a hundred years and he still found things to marvel at. There was something so human about him that she hadn’t noticed before.

His vulnerability allowed Buffy to tap into her own. “I’m sorry about earlier. You did a really nice thing with the tacos, a-and you told me about your family, and then I. . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s not as if we’re not recently mortal enemies.” He was letting her off the hook. 

“True.” She blurted her next question before she really thought about it, “Do you think that the house is going to be destroyed?”

Spike glanced up as if listening in on what was happening upstairs with his vampire hearing. “Dunno. Maybe.” He must have caught the fear on Buffy’s face because he reassured her. “We’re safe as houses down here though, pet. Don’t fret.”

“How long do you think it will take to pass through?”

“Not sure. It depends on if it stalls out on top of us.”

“A hurricane can do that?”

“Yeah. Something to do with the air around the storm. I tried to listen in on the radio,” Spike nodded at the old radio sitting on the cot along the wall, “but storm’s messing with the signal even with the antenna.”

“Great.” A sudden thought planted itself in Buffy’s head. “There’s no food or water down here. No bathroom.” 

Spike’s eyebrow lifted. “There’rebuckets down here and worse comes to worst the sink. I won’t look.”

She felt her cheeks heat up; she didn’t like the idea that Spike knew she had to use the restroom. Weren’t vampires and Slayers supposed to have some mystery in their relationship? She never went to the restroom in front of Angel; she couldn’t imagine going in front of Spike. 

There was a loud crash upstairs followed by an odd sound that continued. Buffy and Spike went on high alert. Determined to find out what was going on, Buffy headed toward the stairs without thinking. 

“Pet, wait,” Spike called. 

She hesitated. “What is it?”

“Be careful. Something’s not. . . right up there.” His inflection was sincere. 

“Let me guess. You’re going to stay down here while I check it out.”

There was another sound of something falling and thumping followed by a series of other sounds that Buffy couldn’t make sense of. Something very bad was happening to the house. 

“’Course not.” Spike was offended. “I just heard that,” he gestured in the direction of the commotion, “about to happen. I’m not letting you go it alone.”

“Good because I need food and water and maybe some toilet paper.”

Now, he was defensive. “If you expect me to gather all that up, you’ve got another thing coming – ” 

She glanced down at her stockinged feet and was suddenly very conscious of her lack of bra and the state of her messy bun. “I need shoes, too. And something besides pajamas.”

“Who are you trying to impress? There’s a mandatory evacuation order.” Spike crossed his arms. “You are not going upstairs.”

Buffy matched him. “Says who? You are not my mother.” 

“It’s not safe. What I heard. . . it’s not safe.” He cared about her safety? Well, he hadn’t wanted her to go patrolling either. It was becoming a pattern. 

Somehow, Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him. She couldn’t roll her eyes at him. Huh. She picked up a candle. “Oh.”

“And I’m coming with you.”

She handed him another candle. “Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

So, the tree through the window made Buffy panic. 

She and Spike had gone upstairs from the basement and then upstairs from the first floor, following the whooshing and whistling sound of the wind. The rainfall had asserted itself just under the sound of the wind, and Buffy felt it pelting her skin in cool, hard strikes. 

Anxiety revving up her heart rate, she pushed past Spike to witness the tree shoved through Dawn’s window. The branches were oddly dotted with leaves as if someone had been plucking them off in odd intervals, leaving the tree half-bald. Water was already soaking the carpet and walls. Even the ceiling was wet. Luckily, Dawn had had the presence of mind to move most of her belongings to the basement. 

A sudden thought hit Buffy. This was her safe haven – her home. This was supposed to be impenetrable despite the zombie-raising mask debacle and the everyone-fell-in-love-with-Xander chase. It mostly wasn’t a target for the vampires and demons of Sunnydale. The house and a well-timed-Willow spell had saved her and her family and friends from Angelus. Now, a storm – a stupid freak of mother nature was destroying her safe place.

Oh, god. Oh, god. What about her room?

Not even bothering to glance at Spike or take in his reaction, Buffy rushed through the doorway and to her room, which was happily intact. She had been too distracted by her mom and Dawn and Glory and the evacuation that she hadn’t touched her own room. 

Glancing around, she ran from place to place, snatching up a few outfits – something to slay in and something to relax in. She threw these items into the tote bag she’d used to run away to L.A. the summer after she’d killed Angel. This time, she snapped up Mr. Gordo because she’d forgotten him last time. And then, she snagged the photos off her bulletin board, taking care not to tear the photos of her family and friends. Her favorite jewelry, including the necklace her father had bought her for her thirteenth birthday, went into the smallest trinket box on her dresser and then into her bag. She zipped the bag up and slung it over her shoulder. As an almost afterthought, she snagged a pair of boots with her free hand.

She came up short to find Spike watching her with an amused glint in his eyes. 

“What?” she asked, the irritation in her voice a little too harsh for her liking. 

“You rushing around. Saving your baubles. None of that stuff matters in the grand scheme.” 

She jutted her chin up. “It does to me. Mr. Unsentimental.”

Hurt flashed over his features but was quickly gone as she blinked. She wondered if she’d seen it right. She opened her mouth to ask him about it, but another crack followed by a thump and shattering glass made her jump into action again like a rabbit frightened by a tractor being started up. She and Spike hurried to her mom’s room to find a similar display of limbs, leaves, water, and wind. 

A stray gust zoomed into the room and hit Buffy in the chest. She stumbled backward in surprise and crashed into Spike, who caught her in his arms, hands landing every place. Before she might have expected a sneer on his face, but he was taken aback, too, and righted her quickly.

“You okay?” she asked in apology for her earlier name-calling. She was shaking a bit as she picked up her bag from where it had fallen onto the floor. 

He nodded without a word – some intensity of emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t read.

“I can’t stay here.” She hurried back down the hall and bounced down the stairs. Her eyes fell on a box in the living room. “Crap.”

“What’s going on?” Spike asked, slinging his way onto the ground floor again. 

Buffy nodded her head at the bookcase. “I need to bring that, too.”

Spike strode over without questioning and pulled a large photo album off the shelf. There were ten more matching ones, which had been meticulously organized by her mom. “Photos?” He opened the cover and flipped through. “Oooo, Slayer. You were an adorable little tike.”

“No!” Buffy practically shouted. “The weapons. There’s a box on the bottom shelf.”

Spike pulled out the long, decorative box. It wasn’t huge but it held some basics in case they were needed right away. “Kinda small.”

Buffy didn’t feel like explaining it. “We might need them. I-I left a lot in my dorm.”

“You have weapons in your dorm room? Like at university?” Spike frowned with incredulity. “Won’t some sneaky R.A. find them and get you kicked out?”

She huffed. “No. I don’t know. No one’s found them yet. Just carry the weapons. Don’t question.”

Balancing one end of the weapons box on a shelf, Spike started stacking photo albums on top. 

She sighed. “What are you doing now?” 

“What I was gonna say earlier before you completely took what I was saying out of context – ” 

“What – ”

Spike gestured at her with his free hand. “You see? You don’t even let me finish.”

“You just interrupted me!”

“You did it to me first!”

“Argh!” Buffy rushed forward with a glare, hooking her boots between the bag and the bag strap. She began grabbing some of the remaining photo albums. “Mom took all the negatives, so I didn’t think these mattered as much.”

“’Course they matter.”

“You just said they didn’t.” 

They glared at each other with the windows rattling louder.

“Was gonna say what matters are the people you care about. Photos are important.”

“Oh.” Now she felt terrible. She hugged the books to her chest. Spike was right. “Come on. I’ll let you make fun of Buffy-the-awkward-years.”

Spike put a hand on the spine of the books she was holding. “I got these. You scrounge up some food.”

“It’s that bad?” Buffy was not sure why she was surprised. 

Spike’s eyebrow lifted just slightly. “Electricity’s gone. Food will spoil. Might as well partake.”

Buffy decided he was right. “And more trees might fall. What time is it?”

“Dunno. I can usually tell when dawn’s on her way, but the storm’s muddling things up.”

“So, it’s going to be dark for a while.”

“Seems like.” Spike’s face told her that he didn’t seem to mind even with their sniping at each other, and Buffy didn’t know what to make of that.


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re going to drink the blood cold?” Buffy shut the cooler that she and Spike had filled with ice, blood, and human food. She had snacked on a package of peanut butter crackers and an apple, washing it all down with as little water as possible, so she didn’t have to pee. 

“It’ll taste awful, but blood’s blood.” Spike didn’t seem too distressed by the nastiness that was clotted, cold sustenance. He was lounging back on his cot with his hands behind his head after having blown up a partially leaky air mattress that Buffy and Dawn had used on the one last summer camping trip with their parents before the divorce. Spike had even patched the leak using his vampire hearing to find where the air was escaping and using a patch he just so happened to find in her dad’s precious toolbox, which her mom had confiscated. Buffy thought that Spike would be amused by that story. 

Buffy gingerly sat on said air mattress and yawned. The world above still sounded like an actual apocalypse was raging above, but she felt – dare she even think it – safe in the basement with Spike. 

He turned his head and regarded her with a steadfast stare. “It’s okay to get some shuteye, pet. This house has good bones, and even if it does start to collapse around us, I’ll wake you up before we’re crushed.”

“Gee, thanks. What a vote of confidence for sleep.” Still, Buffy was exhausted as the adrenaline from above wore off. She would just sleep with a stake under her pillow. Just in case. 

“I’ll say it again. I promise I won’t bite you. Can’t anyway with this chip in my head.”

“I’m sure you’d find a way around it.” She laid her head on the pillow. Stupid stake was hard. 

“If I found a way around it, you’d better believe – ” Spike caught himself when Buffy propped up on one elbow and lifted both eyebrows at him. “Touché, touché.” 

Buffy thought about his lips on hers – soft and hungry and loving. “I don’t think you’d bite me.” Unless she wanted him to. There was a bit of stunned silence from Spike’s direction, and Buffy couldn’t look at him with her cheeks aflame. Stupid Willow spell giving Buffy stupid memories of kissing stupid Spike and loving every minute of it. “What? No snappy come back about how you’d drink my blood after you did ungodly things to me?”

“I’ll give you ungodly, pet.” Now, why did he sound hungry in the kissing-kind-of-way and not the killing-her-kind-of-way? 

Buffy worried with her bottom lip. “If we’re stuck down here for a really long time like if the house collapses and we’re trapped, and if we’re starving and you need blood, you don’t need to worry. I’ll give you some of mine.” She clapped her mouth shut before she could say anything else. It was the shadows hiding Spike’s face. Shadows made it easier to be. . . generous to the vampire. Yep, generous. Magnanimous. 

“Oh yeah?” Spike sounded surprised, but it came out like everything else he was saying – smooth as butter. Her arms were left covered with the good kind of goosebumps again. 

“Yeah. I mean. . . I would. . . Dawn would kill me if I staked you or let you die.”

“The Nibblet, huh?” Why did Spike seem wholly unconvinced?

Buffy bit the inside of her cheek to hopefully avoid opening her mouth again.

Luckily (or unluckily depending on how she looked at it), Spike took up where she left off. “We’re not going to be trapped forever. I won’t let us be trapped forever.” He shifted downward until he was lying on his back. Then, he turned his back to her – a sign he of trust. “Get some sleep, pet.”

The wind howled in response but louder than before, and there was another crash directly above them. The few windows in the basement were vibrating so hard that Buffy thought they might shatter. There was another crack and smash as the storm seemed to grab the house by the shoulders and give it a good shake, and dirt or drywall sifted down from the ceiling and fell on her air mattress. Buffy bolted upward, blinking and swiping at her face. 

When the dust cleared, she saw Spike’s silhouette. He was sitting up, gazing upward. “Not rightly sure what that was.” His eyes met hers, and even though the light was dim, she felt them boring into hers. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Um, no.” Buffy’s words were more emphatic than she felt. 

“Look, Buffy.” He was calling her by her name? He hadn’t done that in well. . . since the spell? “We’re in a bit of a pickle here, and it seems to me that if the ceiling’s going to cave in down here, it’ll be above your pretty little head. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’d rather not be alone in this bloody pickle.”

Buffy set her jaw stubbornly. “No.”

“There’s plenty of room.” Spike scooted over. “For the pillow and blanket even.”

There was another rumble and more dirt fell. Buffy really didn’t have much of a choice. Not at all. She tried not to think about how she could just move the air mattress to another part of the basement. The part of her that was scared was stronger than her stubbornness. “And the stake.”

Spike heaved a sigh of resignation. “If you must.”

“And you have to sleep with your back to mine.” There was no way she was cuddling with Spike. 

“Back-to-back?” Spike asked, sounding amused. “’Fraid something more could happen if we don’t?”

“Yes on the back-to-back or no deal.” 

“Fine,” he growled and shifted downward, turning away from her. 

Buffy gathered up her pillow and blanket. She gave the very hard stake a long look and decided that she really needed sleep because if Spike was going to kill her or do anything equally nefarious, rest was crucial. She plunked down the pillow so that it sent up a poof of cool air, and then, she eased onto the cot. Before she realized what was happening, her back was solidly against his, and the blanket covered both of them. There was something oddly comforting about his solid presence next to hers, and she yawned before she could stop herself.

“Good night, Slayer,” Spike said softly, sounding just as tired as she felt.

“Good night.”

Oddly enough, the rattling of the house lulled her back to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

When Buffy woke again, the first word out of her mouth was, “Giles!”

“Not the first thing I thought you’d say to me in the morning,” a gravely, sleep-laced voice murmured near her ear. 

Buffy was suddenly very aware that Spike’s arm hung loosely over her waist, and his back was no longer flush against hers. His chest had replaced his back and his knees were drawn up under hers, and because they were on a cot, he was extremely close to her – so close in fact that she felt how much – 

“I just realized he’s out there in the storm,” she squeaked out, half wanting to jump away from Spike and his arousal and half wanting to snuggle closer. 

Spike lifted his head and as such moved slightly away. “I don’t hear storming.”

“That’s not the point. Giles doesn’t have a basement at his place, and there’s really no place to shelter at the Magic Box. Oh, god, I should have called him earlier when we were upstairs.” Still, she didn’t move. Spike was normally room temperature, but they’d shared warmth, and she felt comfortable. . . more comfortable than she’d ever felt with Riley. 

“The phone line was probably dead earlier,” Spike noted, still partially away from her, “what with the trees and all.”

“Do you think a tree fell on Giles?!” All Buffy could imagine was Giles squashed by a fallen tree. It probably hit him on the head. He was always getting hit on the head. 

“God no, pet. Does your Watcher have any trees remotely the size of the trees around your house?”

She felt the tightness in her chest unfurl some. “No. He doesn’t.”

“Well, there you go.”

Without thinking, she leaned back against him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t pull farther away, his hips inevitably moving against hers as he slid back down again. “Didn’t you hear what I said not a minute ago?” 

Buffy was too distracted by how much her body was responding to his – just the way it had before. “No, what?” The tone was way too distracted. She must not think of – 

“Listening is a virtue, pet.” Well, that served to take her away from inappropriate sexy feelings for Spike.

“I listen,” she insisted.

Spike snorted. “Ha.”

“I’m listening now.”

“I don’t hear any sounds of a storm outside,” Spike said, his fingertips grazing her hip, making her dizzy even when she was lying down. “Which is why – ”

“We should get up and go investigate?” Buffy asked, sitting up abruptly, which was something she should have done as soon as she woke up. Only she had been too distracted by worries for Giles. Yep, Giles.

“We’re probably in the eye of the storm.” Spike’s voice was low and deep.

Buffy scrambled off the cot, noticing a little light in the small basement windows. Something was different. “And that’s when we should go out and find the source of the storm. And find Giles.” She grabbed her boots, unzipping them.

“Yeah, and um, pet?” Spike was looking her up and down with a smirk on his face.

Her glare felt forced kind of like after she and Spike had been betrothed. “Yeah?”

“You’re still wearing your pajamas.”

“So?”

He squinted. “Is that a sushi print?”

Buffy pouted. “They’re cute, and I like them.” She pivoted and hurried toward her tote bag. Unzipping it, she fished out a bright red top, jeans, lacy bra, and socks. “Shoot.” She’d forgotten underwear. How could she remember bras and not underwear? 

“Shoot, what?” Spike asked. 

Buffy almost giggled at Spike saying, “Shoot.” She couldn’t answer his question though. “Nothing.”

Spike appeared at her elbow, standing shoulder to shoulder with her as if her underwear debacle required readiness. “Not nothing. What is it?” 

She took a small step away from him and confessed before she could stop herself, “I forgot my underwear. I can’t go without changing. . . why am I telling you this? I’ll just go upstairs and get – ”

“No!” Spike practically shouted. 

“No?” 

“Trees. Two of them. Maybe more.” Spike was looking shifty as he left her side to shrug on his duster. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly self-conscious that her hair was mussed. She probably didn’t look very Slayer-y. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing, pet. The trees. The second floor’s not safe. Maybe even parts of the first.”

She stalked toward him and gave him a little shove but a far less forceful one than usual. They’d just cuddled together after all. It would be totally weird to throw him against the wall right after that. Unless it was for – “Spit it out. The truth.”

“No idea what you’re going on about.” Spike’s left hand went to his duster pocket. He really wasn’t subtle. 

“What’s in your pocket?” she demanded, staring pointedly at his hand-filled pocket.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Show me.”

“Fine.” He didn’t roll his eyes; instead, they were filled with something like. . . worry? “But you have to promise me that you won’t go for the nose.”

“Fine,” she echoed. “I promise.”

He produced a pair of silky bright purple panties from his pocket – the kind that had lace trim but was still soft against her skin. He shrugged sheepishly. “They were sticking out of the drawer.” 

Buffy’s cheeks were hot as she snatched the undergarment from his hand. She noticed he was holding it out to her and let go quite easily – so easily that she almost stumbled. “That’s gross and weird, Spike. Don’t you know it’s kind of stalker-y to do that kind of thing?” 

“You don’t sound brassed off.” He sounded surprised. “And I thought you might need them.” That last part was kind of a lie; she could tell by the way his eyes went to the side when he said it. 

Well, she’d give him something to be surprised about! “I guess it’s a good thing you’re a weirdo.” What?! She was totally letting him off the hook; what was wrong with her? She snatched her clothes off the air mattress and stormed over to the more private place near the stairs. “Don’t look.”

“You’re really not going to toss me around the room?”

She snorted and pulled down her pajama bottoms with her back to him. Did that mean she trusted him? Or worse that she secretly liked that it might mean he was still attracted to her if he stole her panties? “You’d like that.” 

“I. . . I’m not bloody looking.” 

She glanced over her shoulder; he was deliberately facing the wall. Ugh. Not knowing what to say, she hurriedly changed, and when she was zipping up her boots, she felt him watching even if she didn’t see him doing so. She didn’t have time for more confrontation. That would have to come later. “Weapon up. We have a hellmouth to investigate. After we find Giles.”

Spike squinted toward the window. “Seems overcast enough.”

“You won’t burst into flames?” Buffy wasn’t sure if her question revealed how much she worried about him being all dusty and how much it meant that she needed him for the possible fight ahead.


	9. Chapter 9

Giles screeched around the corner onto Revello Drive as Spike and Buffy hurried down the street toward the school. Giles dodged fallen tree branches and a trashcan that had fallen onto its side. Someone’s front door had been ripped off the hinges and was half in the front lawn and half in the middle of the road, and she could see Giles curse as he barely missed the corner of it in his swerving. 

Slamming the breaks on his candy apple red convertible next to Buffy and Spike, Giles rolled down the window on the passenger side. “Get in!” 

Buffy exchanged a glance at Spike, who shrugged and began struggling to close her mom’s big umbrella, which he was carrying just in case the sun peeked through the clouds above. 

Pulling open the car door, Buffy slung in her small bag of weapons and slid inside.

Spike cursed at the umbrella, which was misbehaving, somehow managed to wrap it up, and slammed into the back seat. “Where’re we going?”

Giles ignored him and drove onward. “This is quite an unusual storm.”

“Hello to you, too,” Buffy said. “I was worried about you.”

Buffy noticed that Giles’s hair was a mess, and his shirt was disheveled. This was unusual for her Watcher; he usually was neat as a pin even in the midst of long research sessions. “I’m fine.” He gave her a brief once-over as he turned the next corner. “You?”

“We’re fine.” Buffy tried not to think too much about how she and Spike had snuggled up on the cot in her basement. “Lots of trees fell into the house.” 

Giles was completely unfazed. “I’m not surprised.” 

“And into powerlines,” Spike spoke up from the backseat. 

Looking out the window, Buffy saw what Spike was referring to. A large tree had been ripped up by the roots, taking a large chunk of the earth below and the powerlines above with it. “That’s why we don’t have any power.” 

“It’s out almost everywhere,” Giles said. 

“What’s unusual?” Buffy asked. “You seem – ”

“Like your tailfeathers are all ruffled,” Spike concluded.

Buffy didn’t miss a beat. “What Spike said.”

“Well, the hurricane being here is unusual, which we already know, and cloud cover is uncommon in the eye of a hurricane.”

“Oh,” Spike said, purposefully moving away from the window to the middle of the backseat. 

Giles continued, “I spoke briefly with the Council. They were of little help as usual. And I’ve spent hours scouring my books. There is nothing more than what I already shared with you. But I suspect that it does have something to do with Glory.”

“Scouring books by candlelight. I’ve been there many a night,” Spike mused. Buffy wondered what he meant but didn’t question.

“So, we go to the source?” Buffy played with the tip of the stake in her lap. She had a feeling she would need something different than a stake to slay this problem. 

“Precisely,” Giles said. “Well, the hellmouth since we don’t know where Glory is.”

Buffy pictured Spike leaning back in the seat with his hands behind his head though she didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. He sounded thoughtful. “We’re headed to the husk of a high school. Where are the students studying this year anyway? They didn’t throw up a new school in a year.”

“You’d be surprised by how fast the construction teams around here work,” Buffy said, glancing back at Spike, who was surprisingly not smirking. “At least, that’s what Xander says.”

“I do believe that the high school students are borrowing the junior high school as they did last school year,” Giles supplied, completely running through an intersection with no working lights. No one was around, so it didn’t matter anyway. 

“The older students go in the morning, and the younger in the afternoon,” Buffy added. “Not at Dawn’s school though. She wishes. I would have loved that, but I would’ve wanted the afternoon slot for classes. Then, I could have slept in after a long night of slaying.” 

“A Slayer working longer hours on account she has late classes? No, bloody thank you.” There was a teasing lilt in Spike’s tone that was very different than what would have been biting sarcasm not too long ago. 

Instead of popping him in the nose like before, Buffy simply glared at him. “Better be glad I didn’t work longer hours. You might be dust by now.”

“Pffshh. You hardly tried to kill me. If you’d really have come my direction, we might’ve had a right deadly fight.”

Buffy shifted in her seat so that her knee pressed into the center console. “What do you call the fight in broad daylight on campus last year?”

Spike set his jaw, and his cheekbones moved with the motion. “Hardly your best moment.” 

Buffy lifted her chin. “Hardly yours. I remember you losing that fight.”

“Barely.” Something about Spike’s eyes made Buffy think he was softening there as if what he’d said to her then was a tiny regret – the tiniest.

Giles, of course, didn’t pick up on it. He snapped, letting every ounce of irritation shine through, “Will you two shut up?” He turned another corner without pausing to slow down. 

Buffy gave Spike one little glare to get in the last word before she dutifully turned around in her seat. 

Spike was silent for several seconds before he asked, “What is it with this Glory bird anyway? Why do you even care?”

Buffy and Giles exchanged a glance. 

She lifted her shoulder in a single shrug. Maybe Spike could help them. He was strong, and all Buffy knew was that Glory was incredibly strong and wanted her sister to open a doorway that could destroy the world. Spike being an evil (but chipped) vampire was beside the point. 

When she looked at Giles, he lifted both eyebrows at her as if telling her what she was about to do was crazy.

Spike pointed toward the windshield between them and practically shouted, “Person. There’s a person!”

Buffy gripped her seat as Giles slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing a hunched, stumbling man with an odd expression on his face. Without looking at the man or Buffy, Giles sighed in resignation. 

Inhaling, Buffy said, “This does not leave this car.”

“That Rupert almost plowed over someone?” Spike gestured at the man who pushed past some shrubbery without giving it much notice.

“No, about Glory.”

“Ah, right.” Spike was silent for a moment, and instead of assuming the worst, Buffy gave him a moment. “It doesn’t leave this vehicle.”

“Good. The short version?” Buffy asked as Spike leaned into the front seat to listen.

“Preferably,” Giles muttered. 

“Monks created my sister out of me.” Spike’s eyebrow lifted, but his bright blue eyes told Buffy that he was listening to her with rapt attention. “The reason they did so was to hide her from Glory, who is this creature they called a beast of some sort. Dawn is Glory’s key to her home dimension.”

“Let me guess. Opening the dimension will destroy the world,” Spike said with all seriousness. 

“Right. And I. . . we have no idea how to stop her or where she is. All I know is that she’s super strong. Much stronger than me, and,” Buffy made clear eye contact with Spike, “you’re strong. I need your help.”

“Well, then. I’ve always had a soft spot for your lil sis ever since she braved up and talked to me that first time you had me over.” 

“You act like that I asked you to come over for dinner,” Buffy said with a mixture of sarcasm and relief. Spike knew her sister, too, even if the whole timeline was made up and inserted. There was some comfort in knowing that the monks gave Spike a connection, too. 

“So, what’s your answer?” Giles asked with urgency. 

Spike slid back into his seat. “Of course, I’ll help.”

“For money,” Giles stated flatly.

“No,” Spike insisted softly. “I’m fond of the lil Bit. Don’t need money for helping her.” 

Buffy’s treacherous heart thumped in her chest. “Thank you.”

“What do you really want?” Giles was still skeptical.

And Spike complied by being defensive. “Why do you always think I want something? I’ve helped before.”

“Only when you couldn’t hit anything but demons or when Adam betrayed you,” Giles countered.

Buffy bit her lip. “Actually. He helped you.” Giles’s startled eyes met hers, and she continued, “He stepped in when Angelus was torturing you. Made sure you didn’t get killed.”

“Because I wanted Dru,” Spike admitted. 

“You helped Tara, too. You didn’t have to,” Buffy added, watching Giles’s face, which softened with disbelief.

“Don’t make me out to be something I’m not, pet,” Spike said. “Shouldn’t we get after Glory? Before the storm makes up its bloody mind to move on and bring back the gale force winds?”

Giles didn’t reply and hit the gas, speeding toward the charred remains of Sunnydale’s former high school.


	10. Chapter 10

Buffy hung back a little and let Spike take the lead. After all, Harmony was staring at the blown up high school and crying. Even if she was a vampire now, Buffy couldn’t help but feel a bit of sympathy for her. 

Spike’s hand touched Harmony’s shoulder gently and tilted the umbrella her way, sharing the shelter. She sniffled and gazed up at him with wide pitiful eyes before collapsing against him. He put his arm around her shoulders. For some reason, that simple action stirred up an emotion that Buffy had never in her life felt in reference to Spike: jealousy. God, she was jealous of Harmony and the gentle way Spike was with her in that moment. Tamping down the confusing feeling, Buffy focused on what Spike was saying. 

“What’s going on my little Creampuff?” His voice was low and gentle. 

Harmony let out a little sigh. “Oh, Spike. It’s just terrible. I’m so glad you’re here. This storm is so weird; I don’t remember ever having a hurricane here. This guy invited me to a hurricane party. I thought it might be all festive and stuff. Well, he said there’d be beer and music and lots of people. But it really wasn’t. It was just him and his stupid blow up – ”

“Harm.” Even Spike’s interruption was tender. 

“Oh, sorry. We ended up hiding in his basement when the storm started, and I was stuck. And then, I ended up taking a little sip out of him because I got hungry.” She batted doe eyes at Spike, putting her hand on his chest. “Don’t let her stake me.” She flashed a glare at Buffy. “He’s not even dead.”

This time, Buffy let her eye roll fly free, and she thought that Giles was really being very good behind her. He usually got huffy in a stuffy sort of way around any sort of antics. 

“I won’t let her stake you,” Spike reassured Harmony. 

Buffy cleared her throat. She really didn’t like this. Not at all. Spike was cuddling up with her last night, and now he was getting his snuggle on with his. . . Harmony. This was the same old story. Buffy liked a guy, Buffy slept with a guy, guy left her in the dust. Hence, something was very, very wrong with Buffy. She shook her head as if to rid herself of thinking of herself in the third person. 

“Buffy’s right,” Spike said, “what’s wrong? Why are you moping around the periphery of the school?”

Harmony shot a glare at Buffy – a tiny one. “Because I. . . because I am afraid that this is where I peaked. That nothing I do now will ever give me back the life I thought I was going to have with lots of friends, lots of guys, and lots of money. I was planning on a cushy life. I had the keys to open doors to everything! And now what do I have except a rusty old key to basements with skanky boys who lie about hurricane parties to get in my pants? I’m afraid. . . I’m afraid I’m a pathetic loser like Cordelia after Xander cheated on her.” Harmony clapped a hand over her mouth. She turned her wide eyes on Buffy. “I love Cordy. Don’t tell her I said that.” Then, her attention went back to Spike. “Can you take me away from this mediocre life?”

Spike peered back at Buffy, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Can’t, Harmony. I’m helping the Slayer out with something important.”

Harmony pouted. Her bottom lip literally jutted out. “But I’m important. More important than the Slayer – someone y-you hate with all your whole. . . self.” 

“Harmony, we really have something important to do,” Buffy said, trying not to sound too annoyed and succeeding but just barely.

Harmony twisted around, ducking under Spike’s arm but staying firmly close to his side. She crossed her arms, hip jutting to one side. She swiped a hand over the tears on her face and then gestured beyond Buffy at Giles. “Even he understands my pain. A-and he doesn’t even know me. I mean, I checked out a book or two, but we never spoke except for that time when he thought I didn’t return a book and I had. It was all filed on the shelf where I left it.” 

Buffy didn’t even listen to the last part of what Harmony was saying because Giles had tears streaming down his face. Buffy hadn’t seen Giles cry since maybe Jenny died. “Giles? What’s wrong?” 

Giles shook his head as if trying to put what was happening into words. He stripped off his glasses and rubbed his temple. “It’s just as I feared.”

“What is?” 

“I have no job, no career, no family, and I’m absolutely useless as a father. I-I mean Watcher. Useless as a Watcher.” 

Buffy’s anxious confusion made her babble. “What do you mean? You’re a wonderful Watcher. I told you that I need you. A-and I meant it. I need to have more understanding of my power. The key to what it means to be a Slayer. And you’ve been helping me.” 

Giles gave her that look he sometimes had when he was about to lecture her or provide background on some monster she didn’t understand. “No, I really haven’t. You’re just placating me to keep me around and make me feel useful.” He sank to the ground and buried his head in his hands. “Speaking of keys. I can’t even figure out the key to this bloody storm.”

Spike pulled up next to Buffy again. The side-by-side thing was becoming a habit. “Something’s not right. Harm. Rupert.”

“Especially Giles,” Buffy said. 

Giles rocked back and forth a little. 

“Hey!” Harmony appearing on the other side of Spike. “Just because I’m having a little quarter-century crisis. . . wait, is it quarter-century or quarter-life? Unlife? Oh, that’s it! Just because I’m having a quarter-unlife crisis doesn’t mean I’m like him.” She nodded in Giles’s direction as if pitying him.

“Harm. Vampires don’t have quarter-life crises,” Spike said, “because we’re immortal and there’s no way to suss out when a quarter will be.”

“Unlife.” Harmony squared her shoulders. “And I’m not a normal vampire.” 

“That you aren’t.” Spike’s voice was a little husky

Jealousy ratcheting up another notch, Buffy decided to distract herself from the knowledge that she was doomed to be alone for the rest of her life by saying, “So, now what do we do? We have to figure out what’s going on and get back to the house before the winds show up again. And I can’t talk about you know what with – ” 

Spike’s eyes widened just a touch. “Right.” He touched Harmony’s shoulder again.

A strange noise emitted from Buffy’s throat. 

Spike made a face at her. “Did you just – ”

“She growled at me!” Harmony exclaimed. “You see? I’m such a loser that even Buffy’s growling at me. My whole life sucks. I’m doomed to an eternity of loser-dom.”

Spike stepped between Buffy and Harmony, keeping his eyes on Buffy. “Harmony. Take Rupert back to your shag’s house. Stay in the basement.”

“Really?” Harmony sounded petulant.

“Do it,” Spike insisted. “And don’t bite him or the other bloke anymore than you already have.”

Harmony sighed. “Fine. And I don’t bite librarians because ewww. And he’s old. Plus, I just ate.”

“I’m not a librarian!” Giles protested. “I’m a middle-aged man in need of a purpose. And,” he gestured at Spike, “and Spike’s older than me!” He sounded a lot like he did under the influence of band candy. 

“Maybe he’s having the quarter. No. Half-life crisis and not me.” Harmony dragged Giles up by the elbow and walked him toward his car, hobbling along in her heels as Giles pulled away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spike and Buffy get to talk coming up...and do you really think Giles and Harmony are going back to the basement to hide?


	11. Chapter 11

The hellmouth turned up nothing of note. It was empty and charred and at least superficially dead. Except for the rats. And the water and debris everywhere from the hurricane. Even Spike hadn’t been able to detect any hint of spells being cast. 

“It’s a good thing Giles didn’t come with us. He’d be very upset about the rats gnawing on his books,” Buffy said as they strode through the long hallway that led out, glad to be away from the scratching noises and the squeaking. 

“I’m assuming he got the books of importance out of the library before you blew it up. And before the hurricane drenched them all.” Spike held the door open for her.

Buffy’s eyes were focused on the sky and the trees – what was left of them. The leafless branches that hadn’t broken off were starting to move with the breeze – more than when they’d entered the school. The sky was still overcast, and she swore she felt a drop on her cheek with the open door. 

“Know what’s really weird?” Buffy asked, glancing back at him. 

Spike’s boot scuffed over a bent license plate at the school’s entrance as he focused on re-opening the umbrella. “What?”

“There’s no sound of bugs.”

“The cicadas.” Spike tilted his head as he listened. “You’re right. Nothing.”

“It’s eerie. Now that they’re not there.” The cicadas were like constant ambient noise, and the silence they left behind was deafening. 

“Storm’s powerful.” Spike nodded at something in the distance. “That sign looks like a bloody pretzel.”

Buffy’s eyes followed where Spike indicated. The sign that usually displayed the messages for the school like teacher birthdays and impending holidays or the Razorback ball games had been void of said messages for two years. Now, the legs holding it up were twisted and bent in ways that seemed impossible. “Almost like Slayer strength level power. Or apparently Glory-level.”

Spike regarded her. “This Glory. She’s strong?”

Buffy almost winced at the memory of being thrown around like a sack of potatoes. She hadn’t experienced that since Giles had rendered her helpless on her eighteenth birthday. “Very.” She swallowed and admitted more than she ever thought she’d admit to Spike. “She’s. . . not like anyone I’ve ever faced. I-I honestly don’t know how I’ll defeat her.”

Spike scoffed. “’Course you will. You’re the best sodding Slayer I’ve ever met. You’ll figure out a way. Plus, you have family and friends. Most Slayers don’t.”

Buffy wasn’t too sure about his confidence in her. “You just think you know Slayers because you killed a couple.” She suddenly couldn’t imagine him killing her. She didn’t want him to. Maybe she wanted him to do other things to her. 

“I know a little. Yeah. But again, you’re not like any other.”

“Pedestal much?” Why did he seem so fascinated by her? Why was she drawn to him? She had no idea. 

“No, I’m saying it as I see it. I don’t sugarcoat. Thought you knew that about me.” He was right. He didn’t sugarcoat. Hardly ever. Never with her.

She didn’t with him either. Nope, she was a Slayer who plunged right in. “Do you still have feelings for Harmony?”

Spike practically choked – on what Buffy wasn’t sure. “Feelings for? You mean am I in love with Harmony?”

Now it was Buffy’s turn to stumble over what looked like a chunk of someone’s roof. There wasn’t much avoiding it. Pieces were strewn all over the parking lot. “Maybe. Yeah.” She righted herself, picked up the offending piece that had tried to attach itself to her shoe, and tossed it to one side. “Yes.”

“Why do you care?” Now, Spike was back to being snarky and avoiding her gaze, but she wasn’t sure why.

“I dunno. It just seems like you still care a lot about her. The way you treated her a minute ago. . . . And I care.” Buffy wasn’t sure what she cared about, but she was starting to think she did care about Spike in some form or fashion.

Spike still wouldn’t look at her. “There are feelings there. Sure.”

“Oh.” She hopped over the thick rod of a fallen street light and pushed a stray hair out of her face from where the wind had blown it. 

“But she’s no Dru.” 

“Drusilla meant a lot more to you. Well, I guess it makes sense since you were together for so long.” Buffy swallowed. Drusilla had meant a lot to Angel, too. Was she jealous of Drusilla now? She had been then when she didn’t understand what the vampire meant to Angel.

“Length of time in a relationship doesn’t always mean the love is deep and long-lasting.” Buffy saw pain flicker across his face. “Dru. . . I loved the crazy bint. Deeply.” There was a ton of affection in his tone. “But I’ve always been a bit old fashioned.”

Color Buffy confused. She glanced at his face, and he looked like he wished he hadn’t just said what he did. But now she was really curious. “Old fashioned?” Not a word she thought of when it came to Spike. Beyond his bleached hair and leather, he was a modern vampire. 

He sighed. “Monogamous. Most vampires aren’t. And as such, there was a piece of me. . . ” He stopped in his tracks.

Buffy halted with him and touched his forearm, waiting. She was surprised he didn’t bat her hand away. 

He closed his eyes. “A piece of me she never had the key to.” He gritted his teeth, working his jaw and abruptly pushed forward and away from Buffy.

Buffy stood stunned for a moment as Spike pressed onward. Then, she ran to catch up with him, dodging more debris, her mind working overtime to make sense of her own thoughts.

When pulled alongside him again, Buffy admitted, “I know what you mean.” 

“Yeah?” Spike’s face softened in relief, and Buffy was glad he was allowing himself to see her again. “Feel that way with Angel or with what’s his name? Soldier boy? Where is he anyway?”

“Angel. I’m not sure.” Parts of their relationship had been so traumatic that she still hadn’t fully processed it. But with Riley? That was a different story. “For sure with Riley. And he’s not around anymore.” Her insecurity reared its ugly head, and her stomach ached. 

“I can see he’s not around. No one’s around.” Spike waved a brief hand around the emptiness of their surroundings. “Even the insects left. Or rather blown away.”

“No. We broke up,” Buffy confirmed. “He left Sunnydale for good. Rejoined the Initiative or what’s left of it.” Her fear slipped out before she could stop it, and a sudden tear accompanied it. “And it just makes me wonder if I’ll ever be worth sticking around for.”

Spike rounded in front of her, narrowly missing her with the edge of the umbrella. He reached out a thumb to wipe away the tear. Buffy leaned into the touch. He was being so gentle with her. Why? 

“’Course you’re worth sticking around for. Them leaving has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with them.” Buffy could see the genuine caring in his eyes, and she didn’t flinch away from it. 

“I don’t know,” Buffy said uncertainly, studying the ground. 

“People who care about one another fight for their relationship with the inevitable ups and downs. Them giving up the fight says they couldn’t handle the work.”

Something eased a little in Buffy’s heart – some hidden pain that she had been stubbornly ignoring. “Fight for it like by torturing the other person until they come around?” Now, she was teasing him.

To her surprise, Spike didn’t react defensively. He merely shrugged. “That was the way of me and Dru. I don’t have anything else to compare it to.” 

Before Buffy could reply, Giles’s car raced up and screeched to a halt next to them. Giles’s hair was sticking wildly in all directions as if he’d run his fingers haphazardly through it over and over again, his glasses were askew, and his clothes were more rumpled. The passenger side door of his car burst open, and there was a lot of feminine grunting as someone was ejected from the back. 

A pale, lumpy-looking creature with stringy long hair swayed before them. His facial expression revealed his panic. 

Harmony climbed out behind him with a little huff of indignation. “I said to move it!” she said to the creature in irritation. 

“I take it you didn’t make it to the basement,” Spike said with some irony as if he and Buffy hadn’t been having a very serious discussion. “Unless this is the bloke you bit.” 

Harmony stuck her tongue out at Spike, muttering a barely perceptible, “As if.”

“You are correct about the basement.” Giles angled out of the car. “And he claims to be a servant of Glorificus.”

“Glory,” Buffy breathed, sniffing away the bits of her vulnerability and re-donning her Slayer hat. 

“Is that true, mate?” Spike asked.

Harmony jabbed the minion in the ribs, acting tough. “Speak up!” 

The minion wheezed a little and then fidgeted with the sleeves of his brown robe. “Y-yes.”

“Tell them what you were looking for,” Harmony demanded.

“The Key. Always on the hunt for the Key for her most glorious.”

Giles rushed around the front of his car. “And look here.” He held up his car keys. The metal was glowing a neon green color. It was subtle but definitely present. “Didn’t notice before, but I’m thinking this has something to do with the spell.”

The minion stared at Giles’s keys as if mesmerized. When he made to snatch them from Giles, Buffy blocked his hand much more gently than Harmony.

“Tell me what the purpose of the spell is,” Buffy demanded. 

The minion’s eyes flicked around, and when he stayed silent, Harmony kicked him in the shin.

“Ow!” The minion rubbed his leg. “To find the key. The spell will help us find the Key, and the storm ensures that we have all the time we need to find the Key and present it to her most effervescent.”

“Um, that doesn’t make much sense because people probably took their – ” This time, Giles kicked Harmony lightly on the shin. “Ow!”

“Hmm. What do we do with him?” Spike asked. 

Buffy bit her lip. “Well, we don’t know where Glory’s been staying.”

“That’s because her most resplendent self has been resting in preparation,” the minion said before clapping his hand over his mouth. “Oh.”

Giles focused on Buffy. “You said she’s powerful.”

“She’s the most powerful being I have ever known,” the minion murmured, straining to reach for Giles’s keys with a look of wonder on his lumpy face. 

Ignoring the minion and switching his keys into his other hand, Giles continued, “We should see what we can find out about her. Some reconnaissance seems in order.”

“You mean spying on her?” Harmony blurted. 

“Spying, yes,” Spike said. “At least get the lay of the land before the storm rolls back in.”

“Precisely,” Giles acknowledged with a nod.


	12. Chapter 12

Turned out that Glory lived in a modern-looking mansion surrounded by palm trees. The trunks of the palm trees were bent, and in some cases snapped in two. Somehow, no windows were broken, which Buffy thought was very unfair. In fact, there was very little damage to the large home. 

“The lack of destruction is very suspicious,” Giles said, reading Buffy’s mind.

“Totally weird,” Buffy agreed, redoing her ponytail which had come loose in the increasing wind. She crossed her arms. “My house looks like a disaster.”

“You do have a lot of foliage,” Spike commented. “Lot more than this.”

A vamped-out Harmony was holding the squirming captive minion by the collar. He somehow managed, “It is not unexpected. Dreg cast the storm spell, and Jinx cast a barrier for the home of her most magnificent. Only we did not account for power outages.”

“Oh, really,” Spike said. “Why pray tell, did Dreg cast the spell in the first place?”

“To find the Key in a very efficient way. To help her most wondrous with her mission.” The minion was being earnest.

“What key?” Harmony asked, gnawing at her lower lip with her long incisor. She had braided her hair in the car, and Buffy was now envious. “The glow-y ones?”

“Harmony, why don’t you take him to the car,” Buffy suggested. She really didn’t want Harmony to learn about Dawn, and Buffy was still feeling jealous if Spike even so much as looked at Harmony. The feeling was really out of ordinary. Buffy was never that jealous or uncertain. Was she? 

“Why?” Harmony pouted, which looked absolutely strange with ridges and fangs.

“Because if we get closer, he’s going to give us away,” Buffy took a deep breath and added something to make the vampire feel important, “and we need someone strong enough to keep him at bay.”

“Fine.” Harmony jerked the minion back a little. He simpered at her, which she ignored. Instead, her eyes bored into Buffy’s. “I can tell there’s something you don’t want me to know. I’m not stupid.”

“She’s not saying you’re unintelligent,” Spike said gently.

Harmony narrowed her eyes and looked back and forth between Spike and Buffy. Then, she addressed Buffy. “Don’t be moving in on my man just ‘cause your man skipped town.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped open, and her eyes found Spike’s. His gaze and expression were filled with a mix of something she couldn’t make sense of at first. She’d been expecting to find mocking derision in his blue eyes, and instead, she saw someone who’d been caught in a lie. . . the same way he’d looked when he’d been lying about her panties. In that space of a moment, she saw that he glimpsed something in her eyes and that something pushed past the I’m-in-trouble look. He tilted his head in surprise and. . . was that hope? Buffy quickly averted her gaze; she felt naked. 

“Okay,” Giles interrupted the moment, conveniently rescuing Buffy as any good Watcher should. “We need to get on with things. Though I don’t know why I’m even here as you’re both very strong and capable even if Spike is on a bloody leash.”

Buffy put her hand on Giles’s forearm. “No more talking like that. I’ll say it one more time. I need you here.”

Giles gave a jerky little nod as if trying to suppress the urge to deny what she was saying. “Okay.”

“Insecurity party over?” Spike asked gruffly, and Buffy got that feeling that maybe he was hiding something again, but now wasn’t the time to confront him.

Buffy nodded. “Over. Let’s go.” 

Once weaponed up, Buffy led the way closer to the mansion with Spike just behind her and Giles bringing up the rear. Buffy moved quickly and silently, keeping her ears alert to any sounds outside of the wind. She peered into the first window they came across and saw an open foyer free of Glory or minions. Furniture was tossed around and paintings were askew on the walls as if a hurricane had taken ahold of the inside of the house. But that was impossible. 

As Spike squinted against the glass, too, the hand he was using to hold his ax handle brushed her hip, and she found herself stepping into the accidental touch. Though she kept her gaze fast on Glory’s front room, Buffy sensed how startled he was and was also very aware that he wasn’t moving away. She had the inane desire for him to stroke her hip in reassurance and an odd desire to drop her weapon and press him against the wall to kiss him. Maybe Harmony was right; Buffy was moving in on her man. . . er, vampire. A very annoying vampire. 

With a shake of her head, Buffy righted her mind. Giles was here, and they had a mission, so she kept moving. Spike pushed ahead of her, easing around her and being careful to keep space between them. Her cheeks flared hot, and tears threatened, but she swallowed them back. Spike didn’t even like her. So much for the end of the insecurity party. 

Almost like he read her mind, Spike glanced back at her and tapped an ear before pointing ahead, giving her a signal that he’d heard something and that they needed to focus. 

Her eyes widened, and she passed along the silent signal to Giles. 

Buffy heard an assortment of periodic clattering and thumping noises punctuated by the word, “Nope!” as they drew closer to the back of the house.

The clunking got louder as they approached, and Buffy peeked around Spike to see Glory surrounded by a group of minions, who looked like they might drop into grovel mode at any moment.

“Glory, I take it,” Spike breathed so low that Buffy almost didn’t hear it. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why’s she wearing heels in a hurricane? Real smart, that one. And Harmony thought she wasn’t smart.” Spike’s sarcasm about Glory was real.

Long hair curled and styled, Glory was wearing a tight red dress that showed off every inch of her curves. On her feet were heels higher than Buffy would ever dare wear. And Glory could kick Buffy’s ass in them. 

“Well, technically, she’s super strong, and she flung me around like a rag doll.” Buffy winced at the memory of her body being slammed against walls.

“She looks human,” Giles said, sounding surprised. “Don’t know much about her minions. Never seen anything like them.”

“I don’t think they’re from here,” Spike noted. “And she’s not human. I can smell the difference from here.”

“I take it the pile of glowing green things she’s throwing to the side is a – ”

“A bunch of keys!” Buffy whispered with almost a little too much excitement. 

Glory flopped down in the leather recliner that a couple of minions had just hauled outside. Another minion handed her the next key: a giant skeleton key of some sort. The dark metal glowed neon green against her palm. Glory squinted at it for a few seconds before rolling her eyes and tossing it aside. “Nope!” She slumped back. “None of these are my key! You’d think that Dreg casting such a magnificent spell would actually work, but all I got out of it was a pile of keys to nothing of importance. There’s no power in the house. All the food is ruined. And,” she gestured out into her yard which was covered in fallen trees, “my landscaping is a mess!”

A minion half-bowed to her with his palms pressed together. “If you’ll give us a moment, your most lovely, we have some other types of keys that might of interest to you.”

Glory produced a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes heavenward like she was bored. “Okay. Hurry it up. The eye is going to pass soon, and I’m going to have to wash my hair with all this wind blowing debris around.” She looked up. “And that tree over me is going to fall any second now. Did you have to create a hurricane?”

“It was the only way Dreg could think to get people out of town quickly and with efficiency.” Buffy couldn’t decide if this minion was talking about Dreg or if Dreg was speaking about himself in the third person.

Glory snapped her fingers. “The next keys please.” 

Two shorter minions hobbled up with a giant glowing computer that they attempted to place in Glory’s lap.

She scooted upward, shrinking away from the giant piece of technology. “What is this?”

“A key, your most gracious,” Dreg said. “We are not sure what it is a key to, but look how beautifully it radiates light.”

“This is not my key. It’s an outdated hunk of junk!” Glory slapped it to the ground where it smashed, losing its luminance. “Get it away.” She glanced toward the other minions lined up with more bits of technology and odds and ends, including a card catalog drawer from a library. “You guys really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

The minions exchanged nervous glances and wrung their hands.

Then, one of them spoke up in a high-pitched whine. “We do have one more. But it’s a little different.”

“We think you’ll like it,” another piped up.

Glory raised her hands like she was in church. “Well, bring it on.”

Two minions ran back around the side of the house, luckily not by Buffy, Spike, and Giles, and they returned with a very disheveled looking man. His face was red, and his eyes were puffy like he had been crying. His skin was very faintly green – not quite Grinch-like but maybe more Yoda-pale-green. 

Inanely wondering why Giles, Harmony, and even Spike weren’t green when they were talking about keys, Buffy took a step forward in alarm, but Spike’s cool fingers closed over her wrist. He didn’t let her go even though she stopped. 

“Wait a minute,” he whispered so close to her ear that she had to suppress a shiver. 

Glory climbed up further onto her chair so that she was standing on it like she was an elephant who was terrified of a mouse. “What is this?”

Dreg cleared his throat and held his head high with pride. “We found him wandering the street, muttering how he has the key.”

“A-and Gronx chased him down and captured him. He is perhaps our best hope.” 

Panic was spreading over Glory’s face. “You know I can’t go much longer without sustenance. I-I won’t be able to control it much longer. Oh, my god. Why did you bring him here?” She jumped over the arm of her recliner and marched around the man in a circle, giving him a wild-eyed once-over. She plucked at the sleeve of his navy polo shirt. “What kind of key do you have, little man with the delicious brain.” She gazed at his head and then stared at the ground. “Huh? What kind of key?” 

The man swayed on his feet. “T-the key to. . . to. . . to – ”

She grabbed him by the back of the head, latching onto his dark curls and jerking his head back. “What kind of key?!?”

The man swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “To her h-heart? She wants to divorce me, and I have to prove to her that I am what s-she needs and – ”

“Arrgghhhhh!” Glory stumbled away. “I can’t control it; I can’t control it; I can’t control it! God damn it all to hell!” She gripped her head, pulling on her own curls like she might rip them out of her head. “I’m too weak. Ahhhhhh!” She glared at a trembling minion. “I need a brain. That’s the key I need right now. Not all these useless – argh!” 

Buffy couldn’t help it; she had to step in now, especially if broken-heart guy was going to get hurt. He reminded her of herself, blaming himself for the end of his relationship. Breaking away from Giles and Spike and ignoring Spike’s growl of frustration, she charged into Glory’s backyard. “Stop this! You can’t kill him!” 

Glory seemed to snap back to herself for a second. “The vampire slayer. What are you doing here? Don’t you know there’s a hurricane?”

Buffy stepped in front of the man and lifted her chin. “Slayers don’t abandon the hellmouth, especially if it’s a storm of mystical origins.”

“Well, now, aren’t you just an annoying little flea.” 

Glory brought her arm up swiftly, grabbed Buffy by the shoulder, and attempted to fling her out of the way. But Spike snuck up behind her and gripped her fist before it could get halfway to Buffy. 

A delighted laugh rolled out of Glory’s throat as she pivoted to gain her bearings. She tossed Spike away instead. He landed with a crunch against the wall of her house, and as he did so, the wind howled, sending a gust through the yard. 

The minions were done being stunned, and Buffy noticed some of them staring up at the sky in alarm. She used the distraction to snag heart-break guy by the arm and shove him in Giles’s direction. The minions were scrambling around gathering up the pile of keys and running them into the house. Two of the minions rushed Giles in an attempt to gain control of the human they thought might have the key Glory needed.

Buffy faced off with Glory who grinned at her. Something was up with Glory with the way she was gritting her teeth as if trying to hold on. Buffy didn’t question it too long, taking the opportunity to leap at her, shifting her hips and trajectory to land a one-two kick. Glory stumbled, and somehow Buffy stayed upright, going after Glory again with her fists. 

Glory managed to cup Buffy’s fist with one of her hands, and she twisted hard. Buffy cried out in pain as she heard something pop and tear. The wind swept away her scream as she sank to her knees. Through the stars in her eyes, she heard Glory scream, too. 

“Not now, you idiot! Not fucking now!” Glory hissed, dropping in parallel to Buffy.

Buffy blinked her eyes, trying hard to focus, and what she saw was hard for her brain to compute. 

Glory’s features melted away, replaced by the rugged jaw and floppy hair of a. . . guy. A kinda cute guy. Buffy blinked. She was unable to do anything but stare as she sat back on her heels, clutching her arm to her chest. 

The man sagged forward, his palms hitting the dirt. “What’s going on here?” He took in all the trees and the dwindling pile of keys and trashed computer. He frowned at Buffy. “Who are you?”

“Buffy.” Buffy swallowed, unsure what to do next. Her eyes went to Spike who was barely stirring several feet from her. 

“Why are the trees all down? And what’s with the pile of keys?” He gestured at the referred-too pile. Squinting at the sky, he added, “What’s with the clouds and wind?”

Buffy noticed that the gusts had picked up even more. 

“You have a lot of questions, sir Ben,” Dreg said in a placating tone as he hefted the computer. “Why don’t you come inside, and we’ll make you a cup of coffee?”

Ben frowned in Spike’s direction. “Who’s that guy? Glory didn’t suck his brain, did she? Because the psych ward is getting way too full.” 

Buffy had no idea what he was talking about, but before she could say anything a huge burst of wind, stronger than any she’d experienced so far, knocked her over. All she could think was Spike was right about how she’d get blown away patrolling in a hurricane. 

She didn’t have long to ponder this because, there was a sharp, loud crack, and the tree that had been threatening to fall. . . fell. A thunk resounded around the yard, and when the rushing air passed and Buffy could push herself up, she saw that the tree had landed on the man’s – Ben’s head. 

She scrambled around and saw lots of blood coming from his skull, and his eyes were wide and staring. Her hand went to her mouth even as Giles rushed to her side. 

The minions circled the unmoving body, and one of them reached over with a hesitating hand and finally rested two fingers on Ben’s throat. The other minions, Buffy, and Giles stared in anticipation.

Then, the pulse-checking minion threw back his head and howled a cry of utter anguish. His words were wretched when he spoke. “The most wonderful Glorificus, our queen, is dead.” 

The minions all piled around Ben, and Buffy and Giles stumbled back and away. Buffy ran to Spike’s side as Giles went to check on the other man, who was bracing himself against the house as if he might faint. 

Buffy’s knees hit the damp grass, and as they did, Spike opened his eyes and gazed at her upside down. “’Lo, Slayer. What just happened?” He attempted to push himself up, touching his fingers to the scrapes on his forehead and temple. 

Holding his arm as gently as she could without hurting her own arm more, Buffy assisted him until they were both standing again. 

“I’m not sure, but I think Glory’s dead.” Even as Buffy said the words, she felt immense relief. 

“I can see that,” Spike said with irony, only able to see the bottom of the red dress and legs. “I don’t recall her legs being so hairy. What the bloody hell happened here? I was only out for a second.”

Winds gusted forth in response. Being mindful of her hurt wrist, Buffy clutched Spike’s arm, and they steadied each other.

“Later. First, we need to find shelter,” Buffy said when she could catch her breath. “I think the eye is almost past.”

Without warning, the minion that had shown them where Glory lived ran around the corner of the house. Spike, Buffy, Giles, and the other minions all stared at him and his panicked expression. 

A flustered, windblown Harmony dashed around the corner a few seconds later. “Wait up!” She caught sight of the tree and the dead guy in a dress. “Oh, my god! I leave you guys alone for five minutes and what do you do? You go killing people! You have all the fun!”

Buffy shrugged – reasonably contrite. “Sorry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go... :o) Thanks for all the love for this little fic so far! *hugs*


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...I wrote more because I couldn't sleep. So one more part after this one.

Cradling her right arm against her chest to shelter her wrist, Buffy knocked on the bathroom door. She bit her lip with uncertainty. She wasn’t used to being so polite to the person on the other side of the door.

Nothing. No response. 

The winds from the hurricane outside were loud, insistent, and now familiar. And just as she had knocked, something had crashed against Giles’s apartment, probably covering up her efforts to communicate. 

She almost gave up, taking the covering noise as a sign that perhaps she shouldn’t bother him because she wasn’t worth the bother. She shook her head and gave her foot a little stomp as if to try to rid her brain of the vestiges of the amped-up insecurity from the key spell. She wasn’t sure it worked. 

The reality was that maybe she was worth something more than what she’d experienced so far. Spike had even said so, and perhaps it meant she should knock louder and not walk away. 

Her second knock came out more strident than she intended. 

“Yeah?” Spike’s voice came from inside. He sounded tired. 

Trying not to wake Giles up, she said, “I need your help.” Luckily, nature didn’t muffle her message this time.

Silence met her ears, and her heart dropped in disappointment. 

Then, there was a low rustling, and the door opened without fanfare or snide remarks. His curls were messy and un-styled, and somehow he managed to look sexy in one of Giles’s plainer T-shirts. “With what?” His blue eyes were dark in the soft light coming from Giles’s guest room. 

She held up her damaged wrist, wincing a little at the pain. “The binding wasn’t tight enough, and I tried to fix it, but well. . . it didn’t exactly work out. And Giles passed out on the sofa. I couldn’t wake him up. He’s been working too hard, and I think the spell took it out of him.” 

Giles had held it together for spying on Glory, helping with the crisis, depositing the heartbroken man at home, and then driving them back to his apartment in the beginnings of the hurricane-force winds. But he had had a brief crying spell about the state of his life when he saw his place again. While Spike had poured him a glass of brandy, Giles had discovered that a couple of his books were glowing green. He had scooped them both up in his arms, downed the brandy, and collapsed on the sofa, promptly falling fast asleep.

“I can help.” Spike backed into the bathroom, turning on the light.

“Thanks.” Buffy squinted at the contrasting brightness, blinking her eyes. “It should be okay tomorrow or the day after, but I. . . it kind of hurts now.” 

As Spike touched her wrist and then turned it over with expert gentleness, she shivered. She noticed that he’d tended to the wounds on his head. She felt guilty that she hadn’t offered to help him. Who was she to ask for his help?

“Cold, pet?” he asked, more focused on the way the bandage wound around her arm and not at all noticing her distress about his bumps and scrapes. 

“No,” she said despite the goosebumps. She was suddenly very aware that she was only wearing one of Giles’s oversized T-shirts with something about a school fundraiser emblazoned on the front. Underneath that shirt was only a pair of panties. Luckily, she didn’t have to look him in the eye. 

Spike moved with precision, unwrapping the bindings to uncover bare flesh and the bruises underneath. “She bruised you up plenty. Set your own bone, I see.”

“Yeah.” Buffy shrugged a shoulder with indifference to her injury. “Happens sometimes. I’m usually good at taking care of things like this myself, but it’s too. . .” She was lying to herself and him, but she didn’t move away. “I could probably re-wrap myself.”

His thumb skimmed lightly over the darkest bruise, not even drawing a hint of pain from her. “It’s no bother. Let me.” 

She was making this a habit – letting him take care of her. “Okay.”

He must have done this in the past for himself or Dru. Surely in over a hundred years, he’d come across injuries more than a few times. In any case, he re-wrapped her arm with tender consideration of her injury. When she hissed in pain, he adjusted. She tried not to focus on how his fingertips lingered on her arm or how much her body was responding to the barest hint of his cool flesh on hers. 

When he finished and let go, she took a step back in surprise that it was over, her heart pounding in her chest and other parts of her tingling. What was she doing here? 

She still couldn’t look him in the eye but glimpsed the carefully dried out shower set up like a bed with a pillow and several blankets. Though they’d stowed him in the tub when he was first chipped, it somehow seemed wrong now. “You can’t sleep in here.” 

“Whole place smells – ”

“Is it bad?” Buffy worried. Did she smell? After all, she was the last to shower, and she’d left him to mop up the mess before he made his bed.

Spike chuckled. “No. It’s actually the opposite.” 

“Huh?”

“You smell heavenly, Slayer.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flamed with heat. Her heart skipped a beat, and her next question tumbled out before she could stop it. “About Harmony.”

“What about her?” He sounded amused, and her nervousness threatened to tilt into anger. 

“You were very kind to her earlier.” Jealousy took the place of anger. God, was she back there again? 

“She was sobbing her heart out, and we were trying to suss out what was going on. What’d you want me to do? Torture her? Don’t think that’d have gone over so well with you or Rupert. Plus, when a lady’s in pain, torture isn’t exactly my M.O.” Spike’s tone edged in exasperation. That annoyance was what Buffy was used to; it was comforting in a way. That way, she knew that the hurricane hadn’t completely made them bonkers.

“No. But are you two – ”

“Do you see her here?”

“No.” A giggle slipped past Buffy’s lips. “It was kinda funny how she and Glory’s minions just sort of instantly clicked.” Harmony had decided to wait out the storm in Glory’s mansion. Her minions, seemingly lost without Glory, had glommed onto Harmony like she was their new master, and Harmony had eaten it up – no pun intended. “Seems like she completely forgot about that guy in the basement.”

“Seems like.” 

Buffy’s eyes widened at her accidental insinuated similarities between hurricane party guy and Spike. “But you’re very different than him.”

“Right.” Buffy couldn’t read Spike’s expression, but when he met her eyes with his piercing blue gaze that could probably see right inside her mind, she was surprised to see he didn’t seem to care. “Pet, what do you think I’m doing here?”

“I-I don’t know.” 

“What kind of man do you think I am?”

Why was he asking her so many questions? The storm outside reflected the storm in her belly, and thunder punctuated her point. “You’re not a man; you’re a vampire.”

He sighed. “I know that. Just answer the question.”

“You’re a vampire who wanted to kill me. Lots of times.” Okay, it was the first thing that came to her mind but wasn’t what she wanted to say. 

But Spike didn’t know that. His nostrils flared with impatience. “Did I kill you during the storm? Who cooked for you, helped you gather up your belongings, gave you a place to sleep when the bloody ceiling was caving in, and snagged your knickers for you?” 

“You stole them for you. Because you’re a weirdo.” Well, that was better than what she usually called him. Softer, at least.

“Fine.” He sighed, leaning against the bathroom sink with his fingers gripping the ceramic edge. He closed his eyes for several seconds before watching her evenly. Was that uncertainty in his eyes? “Do you remember what we were talking about before Rupert and Harmony showed back up with Glory’s minion?”

Buffy didn’t have to think too hard about that one. It was right on the surface. “That you’re old-fashioned and monogamous for a vampire?” 

Spike’s eyes widened a touch as if he was a little surprised that she remembered. “Yeah.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I’ve been in your shoes.”

“No, you really haven’t.” Was Spike trying on her shoes in addition to stealing her panties?

Spike rolled his eyes. “Not in the way you’re thinking. God, woman. I mean I’m monogamous and haven’t ever really had that in return. Not really. Dru had her dalliances over the years.”

Buffy was shocked by this. “Even though you were together?” 

“Yeah, even though. Often, dear old Angelus was in her bed but so were a variety of others.” Taking in Buffy’s no-doubt stunned expression, Spike added, “It’s normal with most vampires.” He lifted his chin. “It’s not what I want. And Harmony isn’t either. She’s. . . what do you call them?”

“A rebound?” 

“That’s it. A rebound that’s over. Just like you and what’s-his-name?”

Buffy realized with a jolt that Riley was her rebound. “Riley.”

“I need to be able to have a conversation with the person I’m with. Without worrying they’ll go off their rocker or suggest going to sodding France again. Someone who challenges me.” His blue eyes found Buffy’s again, and she saw vulnerability there. 

Was he talking about her? Was that what he meant about them being similar? “I, uh, me, too.” 

“And you deserve that. Not soldier boy, not Angelus. You deserve someone who will stick around.” 

She ducked her head again, tears welling up.

“You are well worth sticking around for.” Spike was so sure. How was he so sure?

Memories of being in Spike’s arms and of kissing him and loving him rose up in her brain, shoving past the sadness. And then, there was last night when they’d ended up spooned together on the cot. Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place as she stared at the bathtub where he was supposed to sleep. The tears dissipated. “Y-you’re attracted to me.” 

“More than that, pet. More than that,” he said so softly and deep that she almost didn’t hear it over the sounds of the storm outside.

Before she could reply, he traversed the short distance between them, his fingers lifting her head and his familiar lips finding hers. She froze for half a second – really not long at all, and then, she felt the air leave her lungs in relief before she kissed him back with pent up hunger that she didn’t realize was there. It was a bit like coming home; a home she had denied so long that she had literally shoved it in the closet, locked the door, and tried to throw away the key. Key. A second giggle bubbled forth. 

Spike drew back in alarm. “What’s funny?”

Buffy held onto him with her good arm until he relaxed. “The whole key thing. Dawn’s safe. Glory’s gone. Well, that’s not funny. Can’t believe that she turned into that guy before she. . . he got squished. I don’t even want to try to understand that major weirdness.” 

“Glad your sis will be safe.” Spike’s relief was genuine.

“Thank you for helping,” she said with equal candor. She tugged on him, nudging her nose toward his. “Where were we?” 

Before Spike could reply, she was kissing him again, slipping her tongue through his parted lips and her fingers under the hem of his cotton shirt. His skin was cool and soft with firm muscles just beneath the surface – the opposite of how he was in real life. She never knew how in shape he was for a vampire until Willow’s spell, and if Buffy was being honest with herself, she’d missed touching him when the spell was over. Spike’s hand ran down her back as he kissed her, finding a sensitive spot that sent another shiver over her whole body. She returned the favor by sliding her unhurt hand down the back of his jeans to grip his bottom. He groaned and nipped at her lower lip before moving away to press kisses down her neck. Buffy was so lost in sensation that she forgot her hand.

Hot pain led to her, “Ow.”

Spike’s face was full of concern as he found her wrist and pressed a fond kiss to her bandaged-covered veins. 

Buffy was amused that the vampire couldn’t get to her blood like that. Spike caught her smile and smiled back at her. She hadn’t seen him smile like that since the spell, and she liked it. She liked the way the light touched his eyes with little crinkles sprouting at the corners, and she liked how much younger the happiness made him look when he wasn’t smirking or posturing. She couldn’t help but dive in for a kiss before moving a little out of his embrace. 

At his alarm, she said, “We need a new plan.” Then, she went to the bathroom door and eased it closed – the click camouflaged by the howling winds and pouring rain. She pivoted to face him then and tried to strip off Giles’s t-shirt. This was a bit of a failure because her wrist hurt too much, and in her embarrassment, she struggled more, which only made it worse. 

Before she realized what was happening, Spike was kneeling before her, kissing her belly. He gazed up at her in adoration. “You want this?” 

She knew Spike wasn’t the type to ask permission, and yet, here he was, asking her permission. She bit her lip and nodded affirmation.

His eyes narrowed then and filled with a wicked glint. “Good.” 

His kisses travelled up and up, and when he reached her heaving chest and bare breasts, she thudded back against the door, lost in the sensation of his tongue over first one nipple and then the other. His hand crept between her thighs as he kissed the base of her neck, and he opened her up to a whole new world of expert precision as he teased and rubbed and squeezed, and she felt like she was going to explode with energy or melt into a puddle on the floor. She didn’t really care which because she gasped as she came early and fast. 

He worried with her earlobe as she came back to her senses and whispered, “That’s only the beginning, pet.” 

Before she could respond, he was helping her with the irritating shirt, and without much fuss, it was gone. She half-edged him out of his until he swooped it off. She kissed him again with a little laugh and then pulled him flush against her. The door banged a little too hard in the frame, and her eyes rounded as she froze to listen. Spike followed suit.

All Buffy could hear was the hurricane all around them.

“Anything?” she whispered. 

“Nothing at all. Your Watcher is still fast asleep as far as I can tell.”

“Good,” she echoed, thumbing open his jeans and pulling down the zipper. 

Spike helped her by shimmying his hips so that the denim fell away and he filled her unhurt hand. She was pleased to see just how hard he already was for her. As she stroked him, she kept her eyes on him, watching his face shift into an expression of raw pleasure. When she could no longer stand not having him inside her, she nudged him back. 

He groaned.

“Get in the tub,” she ordered, sliding off her wet panties.

He grinned as he climbed in. “Bossy bint.”

She threw a leg over the edge of the tub as he laid back. Both her knees went around his hips, and she discovered that somehow, he’d made the stiff surface comfortable with blankets and more than one pillow. Focus on the bathroom appliance was a fleeting thought though because she wanted him. More than anything, she wanted him. So, slick and ready, she slid on top of him. Staying with him for a moment, she let him fill her up, and then she wanted more, so she began moving. He gripped her hips as she started picking up speed – one arm holding onto the edge of the tub and her hurt one cradled against her belly. She moved faster and faster as he urged her on. His hips met her with equal gusto. He also came quickly, calling her name, and she went over the edge with him once again. Her cries of pleasure were barely muffled by a convenient burst of gale-force winds from the hurricane that left the walls shaking and the window rattling. 

She couldn’t fall forward, so she rolled over so that her injured arm was up, and she snuggled up against him. “That was amazing. Fast but amazing.” She paused for half a second. “Oh, I needed that.” And she had. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed it. 

Spike patted her thigh. “We’ll go slower next time.”

“Next time?” Would there be a next time?

“It’s a promise. I’m not going anywhere after that.” Spike nuzzled her hair. 

“I’ll hold you to it.” Buffy yawned, suddenly tired. 

There was a loud boom of unexpected thunder, which made them both jump a little. A few seconds ticked by. Then, the lights flickered and went out. 

“That’s convenient,” she said, settling down again and closing her eyes. 

“It certainly is, pet. It certainly is. Get some shut-eye.”

“You’ll be here when the storm is over?” she asked, a hint of insecurity coming up. 

“I’ll be here when the storm is over,” he assured her. 

With that, Buffy fell asleep, glad that a hurricane had decided to come to Sunnydale. Her family would be safe, and somehow, she’d found her way back to Spike again – something she hadn’t ever expected to do. This time, it felt right; she wouldn’t be leaving his side. At the very least, she wouldn’t be moving until Giles woke up and had to go to the bathroom. ‘Cause that was destined to be majorly weird.


	14. Chapter 14

Buffy pretended to read a book while Giles made tea. The words on the page blurred together. She’d glimpsed something about Slayers and their Watchers, but that was all she got out of it so far. Giles had silently handed the book to her as a way of saying good morning and giving her a gentle reminder that she’d told him she needed him. Any other morning, she would have refused and said it was away too early to start with research mode. But she wanted to make him happy, so she acquiesced. 

In reality, she was too caught up in trying to decide what to do about Spike to comprehend the first paragraph of the book. What was her relationship with Spike now? How would she tell her friends? Did they even need to know? Could he be her dirty little secret? 

Spike rounded the corner with his hand on the back of his neck as if he was deep in thought. She wondered if his thoughts were similar to her thoughts, but this was short-lived because he stopped short on seeing her.

“Morning, pet.” His words were carefully neutral. “Lights came back on, I see.”

“I woke up,” she said to explain why she’d left his side without commenting on his acknowledgment of the electricity. “And you were peaceful.” At some point in the middle of the night, she’d woken with back pain from sleeping in the tub. So much for comfy. Spike, of course, roused with her, and she’d led him back to Giles’s guest room, pulled him down on the bed, and silently requested spooning. When he was curled around her, she was asleep again in moments. 

“Ah.” He was still with the neutral. 

“The storm is better,” she managed. “Less wind, less rain. I think it’s going away.”

“Onward to other parts of the country,” he noted without really making eye contact. Damn it, she still couldn’t read him.

She couldn’t take the awkward any longer. “You. . . thank you for last night.”

“Don’t rightly know that I’ve ever had anyone thank me for – ” Spike stopped himself and lounged on the end of Giles’s sofa. Spike felt like he was a million miles away from her and Buffy didn’t like it one bit.

“For all of it,” she clarified, stumbling onward without much reassurance. “From the time you came to my house before the storm.” She hesitated. Her heart ached with hurt even if she wasn’t sure what to do with him now that they’d had sex. Made love. What did it even mean? “Through last night. You were – ”

“Convenient,” he said with a trace of his usual bite. 

“No,” she insisted. “Wonderful. You were wonderful, and you felt – ”

Giles breezed into the room from the kitchen. “Ah, Spike, you’re up. Good.” Giles slid a tray on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the chair across from Buffy and Spike.

Buffy’s mouth fell open a little. Giles had set up three cups – one for Spike, too. 

“The usual?” Giles asked Spike as he arranged the cups. Buffy narrowed her eyes a little. Spike wasn’t the only one being carefully dispassionate.

“Sure.” Spike lifted an eyebrow at Buffy’s expression. “Don’t know why you’re surprised. What do you expect two British gents to do when they’re stuck together?”

Giles didn’t even balk. “It’s true.”

Buffy was floored at how much of a bond Giles and Spike had, and she hadn’t even known it. Maybe tea was how Spike convinced him to let him out of the bathtub chains. 

She cleared her throat, finding a bit of anxiety there. “That makes sense actually.” Her heart skipped a beat as she made a quick decision – a decision she felt confident in. “Giles, I need to tell you something about Spike and me.”

Giles passed her a cup of tea fixed the way he knew she liked it. “Do you think I don’t know what happens in my own flat just because I was having a temporary mid-life crisis?” 

“Oh.” Buffy accepted the tea, half-expecting Giles to take off his glasses and ask if he could be blind again. She peeked over at Spike, who was watching her with rapt attention, his blue eyes filled with emotions that were now anything but neutral. She reached her healing broken hand out to him, her fingers crossing the sea of sofa to touch his. “Spike and I are _together_ together. As in. . . together.” 

“We are, are we?” Spike asked, running his thumb over hers, hinting at a promise of a leisurely stroll through sensation. Hopefully soon. 

“We are,” she assured Spike, not even worried about Giles’s response. “And I want more than just that.” She was referring to the sex and hoped he got it. “I want conversations. A-and dates. And more spicy Spam tacos and maybe mini pizzas?” It was more than what anyone had given her before.

“I can do that,” Spike assured her, taking his tea from Giles.

“As long as Spike stays in his lane, helping and so forth, I want to know as little as possible about whatever it is you’re. . . talking about,” Giles said as he slid back in his chair, closed his eyes, and then savored a sip of tea. 

“Can do,” Buffy said, smiling into her cup before exchanging a quiet smile with Spike. She’d found her equal – someone who cared about her for her. The possibilities were breathtaking. And all it took was being trapped at home by a mystical hurricane. 

11-24-20

11:28 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for joining me on this (hopefully) fun little segue into an alternate season five. :o) *hugs* Whether you are celebrating Thanksgiving or not, stay safe and well!


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